Summoner of Storms (13 page)

He stared out the window and tried to focus
on the mission ahead, not on what might be happening to Caleb. It
had been hard, driving off while Caleb stayed behind with Sean.

Sean spent the intervening days in his
apartment, just in case Forsyth put some sort of surveillance on
him. It didn’t seem likely—Forsyth surely had enough on his plate
tracking down the Vigilant. Why waste resources on a man who’d
already proven his loyalty by way of attempted murder? Forsyth had
no reason to think Sean would turn on him, or that John would seek
Sean out except to kill him. But the possibility existed.

And maybe it gave Tiffany an excuse to
separate them. If John had been forced to spend hour after hour in
the hotel room, staring at the man he’d thought of as a brother, he
didn’t know what he might have done.

“Stop brooding, Starkweather,” Tiffany
ordered.

With effort, he pulled his thoughts to the
here and now. “Agent Simpson to you,” he said, flipping open the
badge with his temporary identity on it. He had to admit, the
Vigilant forger did an excellent job. It looked as authentic as his
real, SPECTR-issued ID.

“You need your head in the game,” she went
on, ignoring him. “If your mind is back in Charleston worrying
about your boyfriend, it’s not on the job here. And getting caught
by Forsyth’s goons isn’t on my agenda today.”

“Or mine.” John straightened and tried to
focus. “Where is the facility?”

“Not much farther. It’s in an industrial
area, away from homes or crowded skyscrapers. At least someone was
smart enough not to warehouse NHEs in downtown Atlanta.”

“Probably because it would make it harder to
keep secret.”

“This has really turned you into a cynic,
hasn’t it?” Tiffany glanced at him briefly before guiding the car
onto an exit ramp. “I like it. Much better than the whole Boy Scout
routine.”

The exit took them to a run-down industrial
area. Big buildings, which might have been factories, now
shuttered. Warehouses. Railroad tracks crossed the road every few
miles, some apparently still in use, while others had weeds
sprouting amidst the ties. Eventually, they came up on a high
chain-link fence topped with razor wire and studded with security
cameras. A huge expanse of concrete blazed in the sun beyond the
fence, surrounding an unmarked building, which looked more like a
windowless hanger than a warehouse. A smaller building, probably
the office, stood off to one side.

“Show time,” Tiffany said.

She pulled up at the gate. John’s heart
pounded, but he did his best to keep his breathing even and face
expressionless. Tiffany didn’t think the guard would be an empath
for the simple reason half the people coming into the facility
would be lying about what really went on there. But if she was
wrong, they were screwed.

The guy in the guard hut wore a faded blue
uniform and looked like hired private security. The hell? Did they
have the wrong address?

“Can I help you?” the man asked, leaning out
the window.

If his appearance surprised Tiffany, she
didn’t show it. Taking out her badge, she said, “Agents Warwick and
Simpson. We’re here to follow up on a shipping discrepancy.”

The guard examined her badge carefully, then
John’s. Satisfied, he handed them back. “Guess you’ll need access
to the office. I’ll radio someone to meet you outside the
building.”

Tiffany nodded. “Thanks. You have a good day,
now.”

Once they’d pulled away from the hut, John
said, “A private firm instead of agents?”

“And for someone guarding a black ops
facility, he didn’t seem very worried about security, did he?”
Tiffany shook her head. “I don’t know what’s going on, but
something is very wrong here.”

* * *

Caleb guided the bland government-issue sedan
through the narrow Charleston streets. It reeked of cigarettes, and
he hoped like hell the gate guard didn’t notice his watering eyes.
Some of the flowers and trees had started blooming already, so at
least he could put it down to allergies, instead of sensitivity
brought on by having amped-up senses thanks to the NHE in his
head.

Normally it would have bothered him more, but
today it was just one in a long line of irritants. The suit itched,
and the damned tie felt like it might strangle him. His whole head
felt weird without the weight of his long hair, and he’d actually
startled himself that morning when he glanced in the mirror.

Worst of all, of course, was the fact he
drove around with a guy who’d already tried to kill him once. At
least Sean had kept his mouth shut while Caleb drove.

“Well,” Sean said. Christ, so much for that.
“The possession is permanent now. How does John feel about it?”

“I’d say he feels it’s worked out pretty well
for him,” Caleb said. Should he start discussing the details of
their sex life? It might shut Sean up.

Sean stared out the window. “Uh huh.” He
didn’t sound convinced. Which was his problem, not Caleb’s. “Did
you think about John at all when you decided to keep the NHE with
you?”

Caleb’s hands tightened on the steering
wheel. Gray’s anger washed through their veins, twining with his.
You can’t manifest now, remember?

“
I know, but...he is belittling your
choice.”

Let me handle it.

“John is the reason I did this,” Caleb said,
fighting to keep his voice calm.

Sean snorted. “Was he? Not because it feels
good, to have power? To be strong and fast, to have your TK boosted
through the roof?”

“Listen. Here. You. Flaming. Asshole.” Caleb
bit off each word. A loud crack came from the steering wheel as
something snapped under his grip. He forced his fingers to
unclench. “Believe it or not, if John’s exorcism didn’t work, I
intended to call in the Vigilant. But
you
went and stabbed
everyone in the back, then handed John over to Forsyth. And if you
think I was willing to leave him in that fucker’s hands, after
everything I’d seen at RD, you are sadly mistaken.” He shook his
head. “If anyone is to blame for Gray and I being together on a
permanent basis, it would be you.”

“I didn’t know—”

“John did. But you didn’t trust him.”

Sean sighed and scrubbed tiredly at his face,
wincing as his fingers encountered healing bruises and cuts. “You
have to understand. Everything we’d ever seen, everything we’d ever
been told, said the forty day limit meant good-bye Caleb, hello
rampaging monster.”

“
I do not rampage. When will these mortals
learn?”

“When Forsyth told me you couldn’t be
exorcised, I didn’t know what to do,” Sean went on. “I couldn’t
just stand there and watch my best friend get killed. Once Forsyth
took you in, I thought everything would be all right. But you
escaped, the kill order came down, and I didn’t have a choice.”

“
Perhaps we should have killed him when we
had the chance.”

No kidding.

“Nice rationalizing.” Caleb kept his grip
loose and took deep breaths. Leaning over and punching Sean into
unconsciousness might feel good, but wouldn’t help anything in the
long run. “But if you think I’m going to understand you, or
sympathize with you, or do anything besides want to dump your body
in Charleston harbor, you’re shit out of luck.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because, unlike some people in the car, Gray
and I aren’t murderers.”

“I didn’t—” Sean caught himself. “Never mind.
I just hope you’ve thought this through. What it will do to
John.”

Oh, this would be good. “And what do you
think I’m going to do to him now?” Hell, if Sean knew Gray had
tasted John’s blood, he’d probably try to stake them in the
car.

“You’ve already survived something no other
NHE could have,” Sean said. “Can you die?”

“Not sure I want to answer, considering you’d
see a yes as encouragement to try again.”

“Fine. How about: are you going to age? If we
survive this somehow, how is John going to feel when he’s seventy
and you still look twenty-five?”

“I see what you’re getting at. You think I
should break up with him, if it turns out I’m living the eternal
youth vampire stereotype.” Caleb fought to keep his voice level.
“But if we’ve learned one thing in the last week, it’s you have to
talk shit out. So instead of making John’s decisions for him, I’d
ask him how he felt. Because guess what? The three of us are
partners in this. I’m not going to act like I know what John needs
better than he does. He’s an adult, which means he gets to make his
own choices. So if you think I’m going to nobly sacrifice my
relationship with him, you’re out of luck. I’m not a big enough
asshole.”

At least Sean finally shut up. God, if he’d
known the drive over would be like this, Caleb would have insisted
on taking separate vehicles.

SPECTR-HQ finally came into view.
Okay,
remember—stay as quiet as you can, all right? If we run into any
exorcists...well, we don’t want to give them any help pegging
us.

“
I remember.”
But Gray fretted
silently.
“But if we need to act swiftly...”

Chance we have to take. If we get made before
we even get inside, wearing this suit was for nothing. Which isn’t
a sacrifice I’m willing to make.

“
It is not so uncomfortable.”
Of
course Gray had been subjected to every badly fitted suit known to
man while inhabiting various corpses. Not to mention high
heels.

Okay, you have a point. But we’re not telling
John.

“Are you sure Pittman said a regular empath
won’t notice the lack of emotions from you?” Sean asked.

“Yes, and it’s a little too late to freak out
now. Unless you want the guard to think I’ve kidnapped you or
something.”

“Yeah, okay.” Sean took a series of deep
breaths.

Forget Gray giving them away. At this rate,
they’d be lucky to make it to the parking garage.

Caleb pulled in the drive and up to the
guardhouse, just as he’d seen John do dozens of times. It was right
at five o’clock, and a line of cars was going the other way, out of
the lot instead of in. He powered down the window and leaned his
elbow on the door as the car came to a halt.

The guard in the hut wore the bright green
armband of an empath. Putting on his most friendly grin, Caleb
pulled out the fake badge and passed it over. “Carson Jenkins,
SPECTR RD,” he said smoothly. “I think you know Special Agent
McNamara here.”

“Night, Tom!” someone called from the
outgoing traffic. The guard divided his attention to wave at the
departing vehicle before passing Caleb’s badge back, having barely
glanced at it.

“How’s it going, Sean?” he asked. “Haven’t
seen you for a few days.”

“Special assignment.” Caleb said, because the
last thing they needed was for the guard to catch Sean in a
lie.

The guard just nodded. “See you tomorrow,
Lindy!” he called out to a woman leaving in the other direction.
She flashed him a smile. When she was gone, he raised the gate for
them. “Don’t let them work you too hard. You two have a good
evening, now.”

“Christ,” Caleb said, once they were past.
“Not that I wanted to get caught, but I’d expected more from my tax
dollars.”

“Empaths rely on their psychic senses.
Ordinarily it’s all but foolproof. If he could have sensed you, he
would have realized you were lying instantly.” Sean shook his head.
“Besides, the gate is just there to keep the casual loonies out.
It’s the security on the rest of the building we have to worry
about tripping. Getting in is easy. Getting out again is the hard
part.”

Tiffany parked the sedan in front of the
office building. The building itself was of tan brick and concrete,
the sort of generic industrial design popular during the ‘70s. All
around them the parking lot stretched out, asphalt cracking under
the southern sun and completely deserted except for their
vehicle.

“Where is everyone?” John climbed out of the
car, grateful it was still early enough in spring the parking lot
was merely hot instead feeling like a blast furnace. “I don’t
imagine it takes many staff to run this place, but there ought to
be
some
.”

“Yeah,” Tiffany agreed uneasily. “Place looks
like the aftermath of a zombie apocalypse.”

A golf cart appeared around the side of the
storage hanger and sped toward them. The man who climbed out wore
the same uniform as the gate guard. He approached with a big smile
and an outstretched hand. “Jeff Liu. Mike said you guys need to get
into the shipping office right?”

Tiffany gave him a bright smile. “Right. Can
you help us?”

Liu’s gaze strayed to John and quickly turned
appreciative. “Absolutely,” he said, holding his hand out to
John.

John gave the man his best smile, the one
that had picked up plenty of guys in bars over the years. “Thanks
for the help, Jeff. I’m Nick.”

“Nice to meet you.” Liu returned the
smile.

After double-checking their badges, the guard
took out his keys and unlocked the door. “Just let me get the
lights,” he said, stepping inside. “There we are. Come on in.”

The air inside was close and hot, and had the
faintly musty scent of abandonment. “Sorry about the heat—they shut
off the AC when they closed up shop last week,” Liu said. “Just let
me hit the controls here and we can get some air moving.”

While the guard busied himself with the panel
behind the receptionist’s desk, Tiffany and John exchanged a
glance. What was going on? Of all the things they’d expected,
finding the facility abandoned hadn’t been one of them. Why did
Forsyth pull out all the personnel? And what about any remaining
bottles, which might be stored in the enormous warehouse outside?
Was there better security on the hanger, or did Forsyth simply not
care about the risk anymore?